Secure To A Tee!

I was working today in a corporate office with the most fastidious security guard I’ve ever seen… And I’ve met a lot of ‘em.

I wonder if security is a power kick – because most of them seem to intensely enjoy protecting whatever it is they’re protecting.

I need to make a note – not all security guards are jerks – I don’t even think this particular S.G. was a jerk – just incredibly intense – in an odd way…

I used to work a lot of live sporting events. Whenever we traveled, it was important to have the proper credentials and parking passes, or you were sure to have to endure a long, tedious lecture from intensely jerky security guards. To avoid this, I often wore my credentials on the outside of my winter coat – and immediately brought extra coffee to the guard I had to deal with - “You look cold!” I’d say. Then, they wouldn’t yell at me nearly as much, as I talked my way into the executive parking garage….

Today’s security guard was incredibly… Well, fastidious. Picture Jerry Seinfeld with a badge… When we first arrived, she scolded my client for not providing a list of names. “We could have been ready for you. We just needed the information.”

My crew rolled in a cart – with pneumatic wheels – onto the thick, rubber mats in the lobby. “That cart shouldn’t be in here – it’s not good for the marble,” thus saith the security guard.

We pointed out the pneumatic wheels. I offered to take the cart out and go in through the service entrance. S.G. noted that we were already in the building.

My client brought us to the room we were working in. He explained where the rest rooms were. “And if you need coffee….” He then proceeded to tell us where the cafeteria was. He said he was going up to his office, told us how to contact him – and left.

My co-worker and I agreed to get coffee for the rest of our crew, but couldn’t remember the exact directions to the cafeteria. We headed down to the security desk – it was a mistake.

S.G. said, “You can’t be down here without an escort, but the cafeteria is that way.” I explained that the client had given us permission to go there (I’m now in eighth grade… I have a hair-sprayed mullet, and am wearing fluorescent pink socks).

“But you can’t be down here without an escort. You don’t look like you care.”

“I assure you I care – but I was given permission by my client.”

“I would suggest you go back to the boardroom, call your client and have him escort you to the cafeteria.”

I must note that the cafeteria was twenty feet from the security desk – but S.G. made me go back to the boardroom. As we walked, I wondered why we didn’t need an escort back to the boardroom…

I don’t want to sound disrespectful, but I work for my client – not S.G. My co-worker and I circled and went to the cafeteria by another route. S.G. of course, watched us the whole time at the front desk. In our minds, we swore we heard the Mission Impossible Theme song.

The plot thickens: Once in the cafeteria, we realized we had only plastic to pay for our drinks. The nice lady at the register said she was a cash business, but sweetly suggested we go across the street to the ATM. I politely explained my predicament. “I can’t go out there – I’m not even supposed to be in here You see, I don’t have an escort.” She took my name and said I could come back later with the money. I wondered what was worse – being entrusted to pay for a drink, or walking around a building unescorted… I took the coffee, and headed back to the boardroom… the back way.

When we returned, my client came from his office, with a funny look on his face. “I just got a Nastygram from the S.G.” I apologized profusely.

“Don’t think twice – I’d have done the same thing. I’ll talk to her later. You did nothing wrong. I don’t work for the S.G.”

That makes two of us.

I’m not suggesting anyone ignore the rules of an establishment – but I do get a little concerned sometimes, when people take their jobs so seriously that it makes it difficult for those they’re protecting to function. I guess I’m not mad at S.G. – just weirdly amused.